Unwanted
by Featherr
Summary: After the death of her mother, Holly Malfoy is sent to live with her father, Draco, his wife, Astoria, and their son, Scorpius. Can she deal with her stepmother's hate, her confusion toward her new family, and challenges at Hogwarts all at the same time?
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

"Draco, I'm sorry."

"This is unnecessary. Why are you doing this to me?" Draco's voice dripped with anger and confusion, uncharacteristically shaking ever so slightly.

"I can't say. I'm sorry," the small, slight woman before him began to back away, her voice thick with tears as she tried to turn away. Draco's hands reached out and gripped her slender upper arms, his long fingers wrapping completely around and overlapping. She could feel his hands shaking. She could see the anguish in his eyes.

"Leah. Please. Don't leave me," he whispered, his voice cracking. He could see the indecision in her eyes as she appraised his pathetic pleading, and he hoped that she loved him as much as she had said, that all her words hadn't been errant lies. He hoped that this love would be enough for him to keep her with him, living in Malfoy Manor together as they had been for the past year. He wondered though, if perhaps they were too young for that sort of commitment; they were only nineteen.

"I must. I'm so sorry," Leah murmured, her lower lip trembling. She hated how she was hurting him, how she could see every one of her words slicing him like a dagger. She hated herself for doing this to him, she hated him for causing it. No, that was a lie. She didn't hate him. Leah Wickett loved Draco Malfoy more than her own life, and she wished with all her heart that she hadn't thoroughly convinced herself that this was necessary.

She began to pull away from Draco, but he was stronger. With his grip on her arms, he pulled her into a tight embrace. She leaned her head back and looked up into his eyes before gently pressing her lips to his one last time. Then she gently disentangled herself from his arms and backed up, swiftly spinning around, her light brown hair flying like her dark teal robes, before she disapparated, disappearing with a loud _pop._

Draco was left alone, his entire body shaking, slowing folding in on himself and seeming to shrink. He was not the tall, proud man that most people usually saw. Right then, he was small, he was broken. He fell to his knees, his hands gripping the grass beneath them, ripping the small green growths out by their roots. A ripping sob escaped from his chest, shocking even himself and scaring the pure white peacocks nearby. Tears dripped from his eyelashes, rolling down his cheeks to fall onto the ground and soak into the earth. He looked up at the darkening sky before forcing himself to his feet and shuffling up the walk and through the vast doors of Malfoy Manor.

* * *

><p>Leah appeared in a shadowy corner on a cobblestone alley. Shops, ranging from elaborately lit to pathetically dingy, lined the crooked street for quite a ways. Diagon Alley, which once would never have failed to enthrall her, was unnoticed as she leaned her head against the wall beside her and sobbed. Passerby stared curiously at the well-dressed woman crying loudly in the shadows, wonder what on earth could have happened to the poor girl. Greedier, more evil souls watched her hopefully, waiting for the moment when there would be no more passerby, when they could strike on the helpless victim.<p>

After almost an hour, Leah's tears ran dry. She found herself curled in a ball, her robes dirty from being spread upon the ground and her eyes aching and swollen. She shakily stood up and brushed the dirt from her clothing, taking deep breaths to calm herself. She sighed sadly and began the walk to the other end of Diagon Alley, where her destination lay. After several minutes, she came upon a small, neat shop with a sign over the door that read, _Langfield's Wizarding Housing and Realtors,_ which she entered.

A small, portly man stood at the desk in the back of the shop, and he smiled tiredly as she headed towards him. "Good evening madam. How can I help you?" he said kindly, noticing her still-red eyes and forlorn demeanor.

"I need to find a house... Not even a house... An apartment perhaps. Simply somewhere to live. And I need it as soon as possible." Her voice was quiet and rough from all the crying, and it still held just a hint of tremor.

"Ah, well I believe I can help you there, madam." He waved his wand and a display of many different houses and apartments slid out from the ceiling. Leah selected the one she liked best, then pulled an enormous bag of galleons from the depths of her robes.

"Will this be enough, sir?"

"Oh... Oh yes of course it will, madam," the small man said, his eyes wide as he pulled the extremely heavy bag towards him. He lifted it from the desk and immediately dropped it on his foot. "Thank... you... madam. Here's your... key." he mumbled, his eyes watering. "It's a portkey right now. It'll take you straight to your door."

She smiled wanly at the man as she took the key. "Thank you." she murmured, feeling the key grow warm in her hand. With a glowing blue light and a tug behind her gut, she was yanked out of existence with the sensation of flying. Just as quickly, she found herself standing on a slightly shabby porch, looking up at a quaint yellow house. She sighed softly before lifting the key and entering the house, gently resting a hand on her slightly rounded belly, the child growing inside being the source of all these troubles.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

_11 years later._

"Mother, look!"

The voice belonged to a young girl who sat in the shade of a maple tree, her eyes filled with wonder and excitement as she examined the multicolored butterfly that had landed on her knee.

"What is it, Holly?" Leah called from her seat on the porch, closing her book as she stood up to peer at her daughter. A gentle breeze ruffled her light brown hair as she leaned over the railing.

"Look! Look at the butterfly!" Holly had succeeded in coaxing the insect onto her finger and was now running towards her mother to show off the discovery. "Isn't it pretty?" she cooed, holding the butterfly up for her mother's examination.

"Yes dear, very pretty," Leah said, smiling. She looked down at her daughter and was struck again by how beautiful she was, and how much she looked like her father. The girl's long, white blonde hair fell to the middle of her back and glimmered in the sunlight, her pale, blue-gray eyes were wide and gorgeous, her pale skin absolutely flawless and tinted with a light pink flush across her cheeks. She was the prettiest child Leah had ever seen, though she was saddened every time she gazed upon that perfect face, for it brought back memories of the girl's father. Leah still missed Draco, even after eleven years, even after seeing an announcement of his marriage to Astoria Greengrass but a year after she'd left, and then the announcement of his son, Scorpius, being born only a year after that. She wished she could have stayed with him, but she couldn't have her daughter raised in Malfoy Manor. The child was happy not knowing her father, so why should Leah's inner woes affect that?

"Come on inside, Holly. It's time to wash up for dinner. I'm making my special chicken pot pie," Leah added with a wink, and Holly grinned. The girl lifted her hand to her lips and blew softly, causing the butterfly to flutter away and alight on the nearby tree. She then ran through the back door and headed into the bathroom, followed more slowly by her mother.

Leah walked into the kitchen, enjoying the warm smell of her pie in the oven. She was lucky that Holly was an easy child to care for; no picky eating, few temper tantrums, and even relatively obedient. She loved her daughter more than anything in the world, and hoped that she would never have to lose her. Of course, as soon as Holly turned 11 at the end of summer, she would be lost to the realm of Hogwarts for most of the year, but Leah tried to put that out of her mind.

When Holly returned, splashes of water darkening the fabric of her shirt and smelling distinctly of soap, she sat herself down at the small table and waited for her mother to bring the food over. She picked up the fork beside her plate and began drumming impatiently on the table, and continued this until Leah pulled the pie out from the oven, not bothering to turn it off, and carefully placed it atop a hot pad on the table. Leah's wand remained on the counter.

"Don't touch. It's hot," Leah warned, brandishing a large serving spoon. She scooped a good amount of steaming pie onto each of their plates before sitting down across from her daughter. "Remember, blow on it first," she said, lifting a bite with her fork and demonstrating. Holly followed suit, quickly blowing on the food before stuffing it in her mouth. She gasped and spit the glob back onto her plate, panting before chugging her glass of milk.

"Argh! I burned my mouth!" she hissed before immediately beginning to blow intensely on the plate of food.

"I told you so!" said Leah, laughing.

They continued the rest of the meal without incidence, and then Holly hurried to wash and put away the dishes while Leah cleaned the rest of the kitchen. When that job was done, both Leah and Holly headed upstairs to get ready for bed.

When Holly reached her room, she dressed in her pajamas and crawled into bed, a little silk bag wrapped in her arms. She leaned against her pillow with her bedside lamp on and pulled the shimmering golden drawstrings apart, relishing the smooth feeling of the fancy strings in her hands. Out of the bag she pulled a set of small silver horses, molded with exquisite skill and glimmering in the dim light. She pulled the set of five horses out, none of them larger than the palm of her hand, and set them on her lap.

She smiled down at the small figurines and watched as the enchanted figurines galloped over the hills of her legs and trotted across the plain of her belly. As the minute hooves tickled her stomach, she barely managed to conceal laughter

Leah found her daughter like this, giggling to herself and watching the horses in intense fascination . She came and sat on the edge of Holly's bed and said, "You like your birthday present, I see?"

"Oh yes, Mother, I love them! They're so beautiful..." Holly replied, watching the horses dreamily. Leah held out a hand and the smallest horse, a foal with disproportionately long legs and a small body, stumbled onto her palm and began nibbling her fingernails. Leah smiled softly, then gently placed the miniature horse in it's bag.

"Time to put the horses away now, Holly. You can play with them tomorrow.

Holly grumbled quietly but carefully set each horse inside the little silk bag, then gingerly placed it on her nightstand. Leah leaned over and smoother Holly's hair out of her face, and kissed her on the forehead.

"Goodnight, sweetheart. Sleep well. I'll see you in the morning. I love you," she murmured.

"Goodnight Mom. I love you too," Holly whispered, smiling.

"Don't stay up all night playing with those horses, Holly," Leah warned as she turned off the light and backed out of the room.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Holly didn't heed her mother's advice. As soon as Leah left the room, Holly pulled the set of horses out of their bag and just laid in bed watching them trot across her sheets for hours. It was nearly two in the morning and she was just drifting off to sleep when something unusual caught her attention.

The acrid scent of smoke had reached her nose, and she sat up, puzzled. She looked around, searching for the source of the smell, and flicked her bedside lamp on. She carefully put the horses in their bag and held it on her lap as she scanned the room.

Her eyes locked on the bottom of the door and a whimper of fear escaped her lips. Smoke was seeping through the crack below the door, gathering near the ceiling of her room and drifting slowly downwards, fogging the air and drifting into her lungs.

Holly stared at the smoke as the cloud increased in size, eventually billowing out from the crack beneath the door and completely covering the room. Holly began coughing horribly, her chest shaking from the racking convulsions of her lungs as they tried to rid themselves of the impurities. She cringed against the headboard of her bed, pulling her nightshirt up over her nose and mouth and clutching the bag of horses to her chest. She could hear a dull roaring sound now, and the temperature in the room was drastically increasing.

After only a few short minutes of increasing fear, Holly began to notice the door blackening. It took only seconds for the door to fall away into a pile of ash on the carpet, and for the inferno to enter the room. Bright crimson and orange flames licked at the walls, eating at Holly's possessions and destroying all her childhood memories without a hint of remorse. She screamed, a high-pitched, bloodcurdling sound, as the fire began to surround her bed, spreading more slowly now onto the covers.

As Holly cried out for help, she heard the window above her bed shatter above the noise of the fire. The flames leaped in seeming excitement as fresh oxygen rushed into the room. A pair of large, thickly gloved hands reached through the window and grabbed her, carefully lifting her through the frame and cradling her against a large, warm chest. She was trembling horribly, still clutching the bag of horses to her chest as the man carried her down the ladder and over to an ambulance with flashing lights on the top.

Holly was still coughing terribly as the man set her down on a gurney and waved over a paramedic. She looked up at him, hoping for reassurance from her savior, but all she saw was a dark mask covering his face, and she flinched away in shock. He reached over and patted her shoulder apologetically as the paramedic rushed towards her, pressing an oxygen mask to her face and expertly flicking the strap over her head and behind her ears.

"Breathe deeply," he instructed in a calm, deep voice. The voice soothed her, despite the fact that this person was a complete stranger, and she immediately followed his instruction. She felt a small amount of relief as her coughing began to subside, but this relief was quickly buried under horror and fear as she stared up at what once had been her warm, inviting home.

In the pitch darkness of the sky, her house was a two-story pillar of leaping flames. The bright fire crackled and roared as it consumed her home, refusing to surrender to the many sprays of water that the Muggle firemen directed at it. Tears began to roll down Holly's soot-stained face, leaving pale tracks in the blackness covering her porcelain skin.

Two firemen came running out of the front door right before the doorframe came crumbling down, one of them carrying something in his arms. Holly knew this had to be her mother, and leaped down from the gurney, ripping the oxygen mask from her face. She was dizzy, and stumbled as she tried to run, but she quickly picked herself back up and continued to sprint until she reached the fireman with her mother.

By now, the man had laid Leah on a sheet on the ground, and Holly stopped dead when she saw her. Instead of the living, breathing, maybe burned and sooty but overall functional body of her lovely, beautiful parent, all she saw was a shriveled, black form, barely recognizable as a humanoid shape. The skin was burned past recognition, red in places and gray or black in others. Bones were showing, blackened with ash and still smoking. The face was merely a skull with bits of skin clinging to the bone; no trace of hair or clothing was visible.

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry," a fireman said gently, bending down to put his arm around her shoulders. Her small body was shaking, her hands trembling around the little silk bag. Tears streamed down her face as she gaped at the deformed _thing_ on the ground before her that had once been her mother.

She didn't know what was happening.

Everything was so wrong.

This was all just a dream, wasn't it?

All she could hear was a sudden, piercing scream. Then a horrible, ripping noise. Voices. Shouts.

"She's panicking! Hold her still!"

_Hold who still?_ Holly thought vaguely.

Then she realized. She was the one who had screamed. The ripping noise was coming from her own chest. Her body wasn't where she'd left it; she was kneeling on the ground, clutching her hair. Her slender fingers grasped as the roots of her hair as she cried out, terror and pain and grief crashing down on her all at once. Large hands grabbed her upper arms and held her still, preventing her hands from harming her hair. The hands then lifted her from the ground and gently set her on her feet. But her legs couldn't hold her.

Holly's vision went black, and she slumped over, tumbling to the ground.

_Mother..._


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Is she alright?"

"I have no idea. She's been unconscious for almost two hours now."

"Oh goodness..."

"She got out of there with only minor burns and smoke inhalation. Physically, she should be alright. The shock of what happened to her mother though... I just don't know."

"Poor girl."

These voices drifted through the murky cloud that was Holly's consciousness. Random thoughts fluttered through her mind. The horses. Her mother's sweet laughing face, her light brown hair fluttering in the wind. Fire. Screams. Crying. Water. The sight of her dear mother's charred body...

She sat bolt upright, gasping in horror. Little tubes and wires that were taped to her face and hands snapped off at her sudden movements, causing an eruption of beeping from the equipment around her. Her eyes snapped open, her vision doubled and blurry. Her eyelids fluttered as her mind tried to register the skewed, unfamiliar scene, but she was far too dizzy. The room spun, and she flopped back unto the pillows.

She gazed blankly at the ceiling, which seemed to be twirling above her eyes.

It was all crashing down on her. Again.

Just like in the parking lot, except this time the warm blanket of unconsciousness wasn't here to save her.

Her mother was dead. _Her mother was dead._

What had the world come to?

The voices, silent as they watched her eerily silent spasm, began again, moving towards her. The tone was different now, less official and businesslike and more soothing.

"Sweetheart, how are you feeling?" A woman's voice, a hard, cold soprano. The voice didn't sound as though this woman had ever tried being compassionate in her life. Holly ignored her, still pondering the depths of the pain she was swiftly drowning in.

"Be quiet, Mary. The girl has had a hard night. She needs to rest." The other voice was that of a man's, deep and slow. This voice soothed Holly slightly, even though it belonged to a complete stranger. Her eyes, which had been widely staring at the ceiling, relaxed a bit, her eyelids closing for a moment before reopening as she turned her head.

"Who are you?" she whispered, looking at the two people beside her. The woman was short, and thin, with a face reminiscent of a hawk's, small and pointed. Her lips were pursed in some semblance of concern, but her small eyes were a bright, blazing blue, which scanned Holly's face with a sort of cruel intelligence.

The man was much taller; he towered over the small woman beside him. His skin was deeply tanned, with smile lines around his mouth and crinkles around his eyes. His jet black hair was combed smoothing towards the back of his head, and a neatly trimmed beard covered his chin. His brown eyes were deep-set and friendly, though dark circles were etched beneath them.

"My name is Aaron Corner. I'm a friend of your mother's," the man said, smiling warmly down at Holly. Holly's lip trembled slightly at the mention of her mother, and Aaron's smile faltered in sympathy.

"I'm Mary Heinstead. I am the owner of Heinstead's Home for Girls, an orphanage in London," the woman said, smoothing the front of her suit and speaking in a clipped tone.

"Or-orphanage?" Holly stammered, a bit of panic entering her voice. "Am I to be sent to an orphanage?"

Mary began to speak, but Aaron interrupted. "Only temporarily. You will only live there until we find a relative for you to live with."

"A relative? If you're a friend of my mother's then why can't I just go with you?" Holly demanded. An orphanage. What was becoming of her life?

Mary clucked her tongue in annoyance and sighed loudly, but both Aaron and Holly ignored her. Aaron chuckled softly. "My dear, I'm afraid that's just not how things work. Don't worry. We'll find you an excellent, permanent home that will work perfectly for someone of your _abilities_." As he emphasized the last word, her lifted a hand and allowed her to glimpse a slim piece of wood in his pocket. A wand. Holly sighed in relief. While Mary Heinstead was very obviously a Muggle, at least she had someone who knew the truth about her world.

"Alright..." she murmured, turning her head back and staring again at the ceiling.

At that moment, a nurse came bustling in, her hands fluttering over Holly's blanket-covered form. She mumbled something about "careless children" as she reconnected the wires and tubes and examined the monitors. "Dear, why did you disconnect all the systems?" she said disapprovingly.

Holly blushed a bit. "It was an accident, ma'am. I apologize."

"Quite alright dear, just don't do it again." The nurse nodded slowly at the monitor, then turned to the two adults standing beside the bed. "She's good to go now, just head her down to the front desk to check her out and then you're clear." She disconnected all the wires and tubes and gave Holly a worn pair of denim shorts and a plain white t-shirt to wear. "Let's get you dressed, dear," the nurse said, pulling a screen around Holly's bed. Holly quickly pulled the hospital gown off of her, pausing a moment to examine the burns on her bare arm and legs. They were shiny and pink, not in the least bit serious. It could have been so much worse. She was lucky not to have fallen to the same fate as her mother. Checking to see that the slender golden chain with a bird charm on it was still around her neck, she pulled the clothes on. They were a tad big, hanging loosely off of her slender form, but they would work.

Pulling the screen aside, Holly swung her legs off of the bed and quickly stood. The room blurred for a moment and she swayed, nearly falling back onto the bed, but Aaron reached out a large hand and grasped her shoulder, steadying her. She looked up at him with wide eyes, and he smiled warmly before steering her out the door.

They reached the lobby, and after a rather tedious amount of paperwork, the three climbed into the backseat of a cab. Mary quickly told the cab driver the address of the orphanage, and they were off. It took only about ten minutes to reach the three-story brick building with a sign by the parking lot which read _Heinstead's Home for Girls_ in a swirly, pleasant font with a flower in the bottom right hand corner.

They all sat in the cab for a moment, silent. Aaron looked down at Holly as Mary reached over to pay the driver, and he said, "I will take you to your mother's funeral tomorrow, Holly. Don't worry, we'll have you out of this place in a few days. I just need to contact your father." With that he handed her the little silk bag with her horses in it, which she grasped firmly.

At this point, Mary grabbed Holly's arm and pulled her out of the car, preventing her from interrogating Aaron more about her father. She had never known this man, so he was merely a shady silhouette whenever she thought about him. She merely had time to mouth the word "Father?" with wide-eyed shock before she was yanked out of the cab and dragged up the walk to the large green front door.

They stepped through the doorway, Mary still with a firm grip on Holly's upper arm, and walked down a short hallway with pale blue walls and pale wood flooring. At the end of a hall, they reached a staircase, which Mary pointed at and said, "Head up to the second landing, your door is the third on the right." Then she walked through a door beside the staircase and slammed it.

Shocked and scared, Holly began to ascend the staircase, each footstep causing the worn wood to creak loudly. She reached the top and noted which door was hers, and began swiftly walking towards it. As she passed the second door on the right, a small girl of about nine years old leaped out in front of her.

"Hello!" the girl said, grinning. Braces covered all her teeth, the bands an electric shade of blue. Her eyes were large and dark brown, framed by almost invisible lashes and blond eyebrows. A shock of frizzy red hair adorned her head, flying wildly as she moved. The girl's skin was covered in freckles, and the areas that weren't were stark white. She was ridiculously skinny, almost emaciated, but she seemed healthy enough in her movements, if a bit bony.

"Er... Hi," Holly said warily, scanning the girl's rather unkempt appearance.

"You must be the new girl! I heard Miss Heinstead saying there was to be someone new coming today. And it must be you! I've never seen you before! What's your name? Why are you here? Ooh I bet you have just the most fascinating story! My name's Rachel. I think we should be friends. How long are you gonna be here?" Rachel spoke faster than any person Holly had ever met, and she stood there, flummoxed, as the little girl spoke without seeming to need or want any input from Holly.

"Uh. I'm Holly. I need to go to my room now. Bye," Holly said, glancing at the girl as she nodded and spun in a circle before twirling back into her own room, beginning to sing loudly. Holly shook her head wearily and entered her own room.

There was a bed with a small bedside table and a lamp in one corner, a pale wooden dresser in the other. A small window let in the early morning light, with curtains on either side to allow for darkness and privacy. Holly went over to the dresser and opened it, finding a scant supply of clothing, a few necessities like hair and toothbrushes, and a small mirror. She gently placed the silk bag on top of the dresser before going over to the bed and sitting down.

_Oh mother, why did this happen?_ she thought, as she buried her face in her hands and sobbed.


End file.
